


Unwanted Gifts

by BalefireFlatlands



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: M/M, Sex Pollen, dub-con because neither of them want this, emotions are gross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 18:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16938147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalefireFlatlands/pseuds/BalefireFlatlands
Summary: Faith tries to help her brother out by 'improving' Pratt. It probably doesn't go how she expected.





	Unwanted Gifts

Jacob's in a foul mood. Meetings with Joseph always leave him sour. He isn't sure if his brother talks to God, and he doesn't much care. He just wants to be left alone to run the army. That's his purpose and he can do it without Joseph's interference. Opening the door to his office his mood plummets even more. 

Standing near the window so the sunlight casts her in an ethereal glow, is Faith. She practically floats over to him, "Hello Brother."

"What are you doing in my office?"

"Is that any way to greet your beloved sister?"

Jacob's expression doesn't change, but his stance manages to convey the fact that he would bodily throw her off the balcony if she doesn't answer his question.

"You've been under so much stress lately. So dour!" Her words drip with syrupy poison, a sound that gets under the skin and into the mind of everyone she spoke with. It doesn't work on Jacob who stands there expressionless until she continues. "I thought I'd do something to cheer you up."

Jacob snorts, expecting that she'd released butterflies in the compound or made flower crowns for the Judges. But when she opens the adjoining door to his bedroom his voice drops to a growl, "What did you do to him?"

"Improved him for you!" Faith delicately sits down next to Pratt who's sprawled on Jacob's bed, unconscious apparently. She strokes his hair softly. 

Every word Jacob grinds out is laced with cold venom, "I told you before to never Bliss my men."

"He's one of your men now? Isn't he just a prisoner to you?" Her eyes sparkle knowingly. "And I didn't Bliss him silly. This is something else. You'll like it when he wakes up. Or John thinks you will anyway. Men." She tilts her head with a superior smile getting up and smoothing out her dress.

Jacob glares, unmoving from where he's standing in the doorway, coldly furious.

"It was nice seeing you again Brother." She sweeps past him, all fluttery gauze and a voice like bitter honey.

He waits for her to leave before going over to inspect Pratt, angered even more when he sees the odd lumped up position he's laying in. He'd obviously been dumped on the bed after he was knocked out, and while the Deputy might have weighed a hundred and fifty pounds when soaking wet, he doesn't think Faith could carry him. Which means she had let someone else into his office and his room. And that person had better have been John or he was going to carve a second sickly smile into her throat.

Glaring at Pratt isn't going to solve anything, he needs to rethink his strategy. If she had turned him into an Angel he would kill her in a heartbeat. He hasn't spent months systematically destroying Pratt's sense of self and conditioning him into the perfect submissive drone only for all his hard work to be ruined. He doesn't want a damn mindless angel, he wants an obedient soldier who can think for himself and act when needed.

Jacob sits in the chair across from the bed, waiting for Pratt to wake up. Frowning he lights a cigarette and takes a slow drag. He doesn't normally smoke in his bedroom, but there's a very odd smell in the room. The cloying scent of Bliss that followed Faith everywhere she went, but another sharper, acrid and musky scent that's naggingly familiar. 

He tries to ignore it, passing the time by thinking up ways that he could messily murder her without Joseph's knowledge.

\---

With a sudden flurry of motion, Pratt wakes up, launching himself backwards against the wall. His standard terrified expression gives way to confusion when he isn't where he thinks he should be, and Faith's not there. He's on a bed, which is strange, and in a room that isn't familiar. Looking around he spots Jacob and stiffens up immediately, "Where am I?"

"What did Faith do to you?"

Pratt grimaces, trying to get up so he can stand at attention like a proper soldier. But his limbs don't cooperate, his insides are writhing around and he wraps one arm around his stomach. "I don't.. I don't know." 

"What do you remember?" Jacob's tone is even, but there's an accusatory undertone. If Pratt was stronger he wouldn't have let this happen. If he wasn't weak he wouldn't be in this situation.

There's another attempt to get up, but Pratt winds up curling in on himself, holding his stomach that feels like it's going to escape out of his torso. He's trying to ignore it, to be strong in front of Jacob and not show that anything is wrong. But this is a feeling he's never experienced before and he's pretty sure he's about to be sick. "I was in the armory. John was there, he said.. something. Then Faith... I don't know."

"John." Jacob's eyes narrow. He's going to have some harsh words with his siblings about touching his things.

Oh god he feels sick. Pratt scrambles off the bed because he's not about to vomit on the mattress and hunches over on the floor, helplessly retching. Embarrassed beyond belief that he's being so weak in front of Jacob, he starts to shake. He's going to be punished. Put back in the chair.

"Pratt."

There's nothing in his stomach to throw up, but that doesn't stop his body from trying anyway. He's in a panic, trying frantically to stop hacking up his guts and starting to hyperventilate. Fear overtakes him as he thinks he's about to be dragged down to the room where they do the conditioning. 

"Pratt breathe." Jacob is next to him a hand on his back.

Gasping for air he tries to obey, drawing in big deep breaths and shuddering as he exhales. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he hangs his head. "What the fuck did she do to me?" 

"Keep breathing." Jacob's hand is heavy on his back, holding him in place until his breathing returns to normal.

Eventually he lets him up, eyes watching harshly as Pratt sits on the edge of the bed, his stomach still coiling in knots. Jacob isn't sure what Faith did to him, but he's definitely not enjoying it. And from the looks of things neither is Pratt who miserably hunches over. 

"It was something pink. Like Bliss, but .. this doesn't feel like Bliss." He's been blissed enough times to know. There's not the calm sense of serenity, the kind of sleepy acceptance of his fate. No this is horribly tingly and he can almost feel his guts rubbing against each other. His skin is prickled up and he feels hot and clammy and cold all at once. 

"It doesn't look like Bliss either. Get up. See if you can walk." 

Pratt tries to obey, pushing off the bed, but his legs feel weird and he doesn't make it. Jacob reaches out to grab his arm and yank him off the bed, but Pratt's reaction has him dropping him like he's searing hot, backing away to the other side of the room in an uncharacteristic show of surprise.

Pratt actually moans. The sensation of Jacob touching his skin sending shockwaves up his arm and down his spine. He gasps and pulls back, unsure what just happened. Flushing in embarrassment he shrinks in on himself.

"What the fuck?"

Pratt isn't sure which one of them spoke, both looking at each other in absolute confusion. 

Breaking the tension, Jacob strides forward standing over Pratt for a minute. Finally he reaches out for Pratt again, hesitating before putting his palm against Pratt's cheek and cupping the side of his face. 

Pratt's whole body seems to convulse, he closes his eyes and nuzzles into Jacob's hand, his own fingers clenching in the mattress. His lips part and he starts to pant. But as soon as Jacob takes his hand away his eyes shoot open and he scrambles away, cringing against the wall.

"Okay." Jacob isn't looking at him, his hands clenching into fists at his side. He has a sudden and sinking realization that he knows what Faith did to Pratt. He has no idea _how_ she did it or why she has a drug that would even do this. But he understands now.

He's going to kill her and John.

"The fuck is wrong with me?" Pratt crunches up, holding onto his stomach again which is now uncomfortably warm. Is he dying? Why did Jacob's hand seem to stop all conscious thought and leave him swimming adrift in zero-g's?

"This better not be permanent." Jacob's not speaking to anyone in particular, but he's looking at Pratt again. This is a situation that he does not know how to handle. His normally calm and controlled exterior is starting to show some cracks. 

"WHAT better not be permanent!?" Pratt is starting to panic again and he's not sure why. He's never spoken to Jacob like this and a part of him hopes that Jacob kills him so he doesn't have to suffer through whatever is happening.

"Breathe." Jacob watches as Pratt starts to hyperventilate again. He should tell him. He should just flat out tell him and then leave. But he can't form the words. Instead he sits on the bed, putting his hand on Pratt's arm again. "Calm down. Breathe."

Pratt goes rigid, his skin feeling like its on fire, electric sparks jolting down his body to pool in his core. But he starts to breathe normally again, staring at Jacob in something between embarrassment and frustration.

"Good. Keep doing that." 

Jacob pulls his hand away from Pratt's skin and fuck it actually hurts. The sudden cessation of that feeling on his skin is like a desolate hole that aches somewhere in his very soul. Pratt cries out, curling in on himself and trying to focus on anything else. "The fuck? Jacob, what the hell is wrong with me?"

"I'm going to lock you in here until this wears off. I'll bring you food. Water. You'll be safe."

"Jacob!" Pratt's voice is full of a pleading frustration that Jacob's never heard before. Even through all the torture he's put him through, the trials, the chair. He's never heard his voice break like that.

Against his will he reaches out to rest his hand on Pratt's face to calm him down. Oh he hates this. He's not only going to kill Faith he's going to make her suffer. This is something that John would enjoy, he's probably the reason she made it in the first place. But not Jacob. He enjoys the thrill of rewiring people's minds, making them think what he wants them to. Enjoys being the hunter. Being in perfect control. And this, this is not control. This is spiraling out of his grasp far too quickly.

For the first time in his life Jacob is massively uncomfortable and has no idea how to handle it. 

Pratt leans into his hand, his eyes wild, his cheeks flushed. He groans as Jacob's thumb rubs his cheek, curling up and realizing for the first time that the weird heat he's feeling in his stomach is actually much lower. 

"She did something to knock your hormones all out of whack." That's putting it mildly, Pratt is practically in heat. He chances a glance to Pratt's lower half, affirming his suspicions that the reason Pratt is curling up like this is to hide the fact that his crotch is very much aware of what his hormones are doing.

"What?!" Pratt backs away from his hand, and then immediately cringes in pain because it actually hurts to not be touching Jacob. 

"I'm going to lock you in here." Jacob needs to leave. He needs to leave now.

"No! Fuck. Don't leave. This fucking hurts!" He says as though everything Jacob had done to him prior to that point hadn't been painful. As if Jacob would somehow care about Pratt's anguish.

This time he seems to. He pulls Pratt to him, letting him curl against his side, and watching as he stops trembling. His hand reaches out to stroke Pratt's hair, keeping him there.

Pratt squirms, not happy about any of this, and horrified to realize that if Jacob keeps doing that he's going to ruin his pants. "Stop. Please...Just.. don't..."

Jacob acquiesces. setting his hand down on Pratt's shoulder. He can feel the disgust and revulsion flowing off Pratt, coupled with his hand digging deep into his thigh to keep him close. Jacob looks up at the ceiling trying to center himself and get his calm exterior back.

He's a monster in many ways, but this is not one of them. Jacob realizes that Faith, and John apparently, thought that he'd be pleased by this. Seeing Pratt in distress and longing for his touch despite hating his guts. He's used to seeing Pratt in pain, seeing him laid low and reduced to his primal need for survival. But seeing him vulnerable like this? No. He doesn't enjoy this at all. 

They sit there in silence for a while. Well silence except Pratt's panting breath. Jacob doesn't know what to do and Pratt is clearly distraught. It's getting worse too, he can see the subtle shift of Pratt's hips as the deputy sought a release that wasn't coming. 

Jacob runs a hand down Pratt's side. "How are you doing?"

Arching into his hand, Pratt closes his eyes, moaning softly. "I feel like my skin's going to fall off. And I might puke."

"What do you need?" Jacob's voice is unusually gentle, letting his hand rest on Pratt's shoulder.

"I don't know. Fuck. Why'd you have Faith..."

"I did _not_ have Faith do this." He interrupts, his voice brokering no argument. 

Pratt grunts, not believing that entirely, but not caring enough to protest. "How long is this going to last?"

"Bliss lasts a few days. So.."

"A few days!?" He struggles up to glare at Jacob. "I'm not going to last a few days."

Jacob freezes. 

"Fucking fix this!" Pratt practically wails.

A release of breath, Jacob had thought he was requesting.. something else. "I don't know how. You'll have to wait it out. Be strong."

"Be strong? BE STRONG?!" Furious, Pratt launches himself at Jacob, the surge of emotions in him completely dampening his timid urge for survival. He wants to claw Jacob's eyes out, punch him until he stops moving. 

Jacob catches him easily, pinning him to the bed by his wrists. "Calm down Pratt. You'll last as long as you need to because you're a survivor. That's what you do."

Pratt isn't listening, his entire being focused on the fact that Jacob is on top of him. He's on top of him and Pratt can smell the blood on his jacket and feel the heat radiating off his body. Unthinkingly he arches up against him, shuddering out a deep moan of wanton desire that makes him want to immediately curl up and die when he hears himself. But he doesn't curl up, and he doesn't die, his knee is pressed against Jacob's thigh and he's straining to get his hands free so he can touch Jacob's skin again.

Closing his eyes, Jacob leans his forehead against Pratt's shoulder. "Pratt."

"I'm not doing it on purpose!" Pratt is close to tears, his voice anguished. 

"I know." He releases Pratt's wrists, sitting back on his heels. "I know. Try and stay calm."

Stay calm? Pratt's whole body is betraying him, his hips thrusting up against Jacob. And there's no way that Jacob can miss the fact that he's rock hard, his pants straining to contain him.

"Pratt." Jacob backs off him, holding his face. "Pratt look at me."

He tries to look anywhere else, he can feel the tears starting to prick his eyes and if it was possible to die of embarrassment he would be long gone.

"Pratt.. Staci, look at me." That got Pratt's attention, finally meeting his gaze. "What do you need me to do?"

"I ... I..." Pratt's eyes are haunted, his expression something halfway between anger and absolute despair. "Want you...i want...." He ends that with a pathetic whine and starts to cry.

In all the time he's been in Jacob's custody he's never cried. He'd screamed, he'd yelled and cursed and fought and suffered. But never cried. Well he's crying now, sobbing out every emotion he's felt in the past few months. All of it bubbles to the surface and he curls into a ball beneath Jacob, wrapping his arms around his head.

"Okay Pratt." He climbs off him, scooping Pratt up and holding him lightly. "Cry it out. Then you'll feel better."

He very gently strokes Pratt's back, hoping the gesture comes off as reassuring and not sexual. Though with how Pratt is reacting to everything he knows it's a risk. He doesn't have any experience consoling anyone. Hell he doesn't have experience holding anyone like this. But for as many horrible things as he's done to people, what's happening now is out of his control and he hates it so much.

Pratt moves from sobs to wheezing breaths, trying to calm himself down. His hands clench into Jacob's shirt, hating him and yet unable to get away from him. 

"Better?"

"Not really." Pratt is nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his scent. He's never been aroused and crying at the same time and it's possibly the worst feeling he's experienced. He'd really like for all of this to stop so he can get back to normal things like trying to make sure certain songs don't send him into a brainwashed panic.

"What do you want me to do? Do you want me to leave?"

Pratt snorts.

"Pratt, this is Jacob Seed, Herald of Eden's Gate asking what you want. Don't take this moment lightly."

Looking up at him in surprise, Pratt takes a minute to try and think with his head and not his dick. It's hard considering his crotch seems to be in control right now. "Stay."

"Okay." 

"If we... will it make this better?" Pratt can't say it out loud. Hates how his voice wavers even saying just that.

"I don't know." Considering Faith's sadistic side, it might actually make it worse. But Jacob's whole body tenses up at the suggestion. Pratt really must be miserable if he's even considering this. "It might."

Pratt doesn't respond, his fingers stroking the texture of Jacob's jacket. He's overly hot, his guts are tied in knots, and he's absolutely disgusted with himself. He huffs out a sigh, trying to wait this out and hope it just... goes away.

Jacob's mind is racing, a couple of problems with Pratt's suggestion presenting themselves immediately. For starters Jacob doesn't have any of the supplies handy to make this not horrifically painful for them both. Secondly, Pratt seems so distressed that he might become suicidal after all this wears off. And on a more personal note, Jacob hasn't had sex in decades and he's not looking forward to embarrassing himself with a man half his age. 

Groaning, Pratt breaks away from Jacob to lay on his stomach, putting one of the pillows over his head and hoping to suffocate. He's sweating through his uniform, and his pants feel wet and sloppy. This is awful.

"Would a cold shower help?"

Pratt almost laughs, it's ludicrous that his current state would be fixed by a shower, but he doesn't have any better options. "Worth a try I guess."

"Come on." He helps Pratt up, trying to not stare at the bulge in his pants. That couldn't be comfortable after this long. "Shower is this way. Don't look at me like that, I'm not going to watch. I'll get you a change of clothes."

Clutching the towel provided to his chest, he waits for Jacob to leave the room, and then his office, before stripping down and stepping into the shower. He sets the dial to lukewarm, wanting to actually shower before he tries and deals with his out of control libido. He reeks. He sudses himself up multiple times, trying to think of anything other than Jacob. Bad movies he's seen. The time a deer crashed into the Spread Eagle. Putting together IKEA furniture. Anything to try and get his erection to subside. 

It doesn't work.

Sighing in frustration he gives in, wrapping his hand around his length and giving himself release. He turns the water as cold as it can go, standing in there until he's shivering. Stomach still roiling with uncontrolled need, he towels himself off noticing for the first time the set of clean cult clothes on the counter. Jacob had been in the room, even if just for a moment. He'd seen Pratt taking care of business. 

Flushing intensely his dick makes its wants known again, painfully twinging as Pratt pulls the new pair of pants on. Dammit.

Jacob is standing at the window smoking. If the half full ashtray is any indication he's been doing that for a while. He doesn't turn to look at Pratt, focusing on the scenery outside. "That help any?"

The shower. Masturbating. Either or.

Pratt didn't think he could get more embarrassed, he was wrong. He feels like his cheeks are going to ignite. That'd be a blessing, then he could burn up the way his insides are threatening to do. "No."

"Hm." Jacob turns to look at him, a little taken aback by the outfit even though he'd brought it to him. Seeing Pratt in cult colors is unsettling. He's so used to that deputy outfit that anything else looks wrong. 

Pratt goes to sit on the bed, his fingers gripping the edge of it. "How long has it been?"

"About three hours."

"That's it?!" He groans and flops back onto the bed. He's not going to make it. He should slit his own throat with Jacob's hunting knife. Out of nowhere his mind drifts to those random pills at gas stations. The ones that say they'll give you a rock hard erection for three hours. Well having experienced what that's like he sincerely hopes that those things are fucking lying because this is miserable. He feels like he's bruised his dick on the inside of his jeans from constant friction. Even at his horniest as a teenager it was nothing like this.

And at least then he'd pop a boner at more appropriate times than when he's trapped in a cult outpost with a psychopath who frequently starves him and pokes around in his head to try and change his thought processes. He squirms, unzipping his fly and stuffing his hand in his pants to try and smush it down.

"I don't think that's gonna help Peaches."

"Don't fucking call me that." He snarls with more venom than is really necessary. But this is the first time he's been able to speak plainly to Jacob and he's taking advantage of it. Maybe Jacob will finally kill him and be done with all this. He's right though, it's not helping anything. 

"Alright Pratt." Jacob stubs out his cigarette and comes back to the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge of it. He glances at Pratt, who glares at him, looks down at the ground, up at the ceiling, and back at Pratt. His voice is very soft when he speaks again, "Does this help?"

Pratt stares in abject horror as Jacob carefully removes Pratt's hand from his pants and replaces it with his own. Unfortunately for Pratt, it does help. The weird tumbling sensation in his core starts to settle down as his breathing picks up. He resists the urge to close his eyes and thrust into Jacob's palm, but he's fairly trembling with the effort. 

"Relax. I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to."

That isn't exactly reassuring as what Pratt wants right now is something he would absolutely hate himself for and regret for the rest of his life. He takes a deep breath to calm himself, eyes flicking over to Jacob. "Why does Faith even have this stuff?"

"I have no idea. I didn't know she did." This is a normal conversation occurring while he has his hand on Pratt's dick. 

Pratt has more questions, namely why Faith thought dosing him with this would be a good idea. But he doesn't ask them because Jacob absently moved his fingers and Pratt is suddenly a squirming mess again. He gasps and digs his fingers into Jacob's side, his hips arching up harshly.

Beside him Jacob freezes, he hadn't meant to do that. He goes to pull his hand back and Pratt aggressively grabs his wrist and shoves him back down. Okay then.

Whimpering pathetically, Pratt looks up at him. "Jacob...I.." He licks his lips. 

Jacob closes his eyes, considering. Should they just get this over with? Pratt is dying here. He's clearly miserable, and Jacob isn't enjoying it one bit. He takes his hand back despite Pratt's protests, planting his palms on either side of Pratt's head, straddling him.

"Tell me what you want Pratt." Jacob's voice is strangely husky and he fixes him with a look that Pratt has never seen before. No undercurrent of smugness, no menacing and cold glare. He seems open and asking. 

Pratt hates himself. Weak. He's weak. His hands run up Jacob's stomach, sliding under his shirt. His whole body sparks at even that small set of touches. It takes him a few minutes to find his own voice, and even then it's so breathless it's barely audible. "Jacob, I.. want you. Please." That last bit is practically begging, so many emotions unspoken conveyed in that one word.

Jacob nods once, his eyes piercing into him, and that's the last thing Pratt sees before Jacob's too close in his vision to register. And then they're kissing and Pratt is drowning in the smell of blood and the taste of coffee and cigarettes. He thinks he has his hand tangled in Jacob's hair but he's honestly unsure where any of his limbs are or what they're doing. 

He doesn't remember either of them removing clothing but suddenly he's aware that he's shirtless, and so is Jacob. Those scars on his arms go up to his shoulders and across his chest, a chest that Pratt has his fingers pressed against as his whole body thrusts up towards Jacob with a need he's never felt before. 

At this rate Pratt is going to explode before Jacob even gets his pants off. He has his eyes closed fighting down the revulsion of _what the hell is he doing_? He'll hate himself later, right now his brain isn't working properly, and he hasn't realized they're both naked until Jacob is talking to him.

Pratt tries to struggle out of the lust filled haze he's in, something that hasn't happened to him since he was a teenager in the backseat of his car with the girl who worked at the diner. It takes him a few tries but he finally focuses on what Jacob is saying.

"Do you want me behind you? Then you don't have to look at me." It's Jacob's way of being considerate. He's not stupid, he knows that Pratt is not nearly as into this as his body is claiming. And he knows that Pratt hates him, as he should. The last thing Pratt probably wants is seeing his face above him in this situation. 

More importantly, Jacob won't be able to see Pratt's face which will make this less embarrassingly intimate. They aren't lovers, this isn't a fling. 

"Yeah." Pratt swallows hard, answering this question is dooming himself to actually fucking Jacob Seed and that thought threatens to send him into a panic again. Fortunately his brain is immediately distracted by Jacob pleasurably stroking him a few times. Sufficiently stuffing down the part of his brain screaming at him, he rolls over onto his stomach, getting up on his hands and knees. "How do I.. where..."

Jacob's heart sinks a little. It's suddenly obvious that Pratt has never done this with another man before, and that makes Jacob feel substantially worse about everything. He debates backing off, but he can see how painfully hard Pratt is, and can feel every muscle in his body twitch whenever he touches him. He gently reaches out to rearrange Pratt, getting him situated. 

There's a pause and Pratt is trying to hold onto the feeling of Jacob stroking him and not tense up because his lust is starting to ebb away into nervousness and disgust. This is Jacob. Jacob! He's about to...

He gasps, there's something wet and cold and then a sensation he's never felt before and he nearly falls. He's not sure if he should pull away or not. He doesn't know what to do. Suddenly he's grateful for Jacob's offer because he does not want him seeing his face right now as it struggles to settle on an emotion for what's happening to him. 

His dick is painfully twinging, leaking all over the place. Which is frankly horrifying, but then Jacob does... something and Pratt sees stars. He cries out and falls down onto his forearms, his whole body slamming back against Jacob's hand. Fuck. What the fuck?

Jacob smiles a little to himself, curling his fingers into Pratt and startling out another moan. Pratt is practically drooling he's so lost in the sensations and Jacob is having trouble not being incredibly aroused by that. He slides his fingers free, wanting to slam into him, take him harshly like he had all his one-night stands in the military. Fuck and leave and don't care if the other person was into it. Don't ask, don't tell.

But Jacob can't help but be aware of the situation and that Pratt isn't really himself right now. He gently works himself into him, one arm around Pratt's middle to support him. His other hand trails up Pratt's spine, enjoying every hitched breath and whiny sounding moan in spite of himself. 

It doesn't take long for Pratt to explode and collapse, a deep-seated sound strangled out of his very soul as he finally gets the release his body is craving. 

Jacob isn't finished, but he pulls out anyway, carefully keeping his hold on Pratt so he doesn't fall over. Now he's the one who's painfully hard, and he almost smirks at the role reversal. But unlike Pratt he won't be in literal agony from that. 

Pratt's really out of it. Almost catatonic. And Jacob carefully lays him on his side, pulling his back to his chest. He strokes his side as Pratt's breathing slowly returns to normal. 

"Better?"

"Better." Pratt sounds exhausted, and he is. It feels like his whole body had been coiled up and now it's released and everything is limp and weak. He doesn't like this feeling. But it's far better than being a needy fucking mess like he was before. 

"Good." Jacob settles down behind Pratt, watching his body slump into the mattress. Almost affectionately he strokes the man's hair, smiling softly "Sleep now. I'm right here. Sleep it off."

\---

It lasts for four days. Fortunately never quite as intense as that first day, but Pratt is still unhappy and distressed. 

Meanwhile Jacob is spending every night sleeping like the dead. He's too old for this kind of activity. And his unused sex drive is having some trouble making a reemergence. 

For his part, Jacob has been remarkably gentle with Pratt, almost considerate. He didn't want this. He never wanted this. Pratt is certainly attractive, but sex just isn't something he thinks about. Ever. It doesn't matter to him, there are emotions tied up in there, and vulnerability. Both things he despises. 

Too late now. 

He's spending every evening with Pratt squirming beneath him, sometimes flipped around so they can see each other. He doesn't want that kind of intimacy. He doesn't want Pratt softly smiling at him and caressing his cheek. Doesn't want to hear Pratt pant out his name. Doesn't want Pratt cuddling against him and sleeping through the night like that. 

And yet those are all things he has now and he's uncomfortable. This is getting in the way of his training. How is he supposed to watch Pratt starve now that he knows what he looks like when he's in the throes of ecstasy?

He's frustrated, everything he'd been doing to Pratt has been undone with one fucking move by John and Faith who somehow thought he'd want this. Why the hell would he want this?

"You okay?"

Jacob groans, he'd tightened his grip painfully around Pratt's middle, angry with his damn siblings. "Fine." He relaxes, letting his fingers brush against Pratt's shirt.

"Should I ... leave now?" Yeah, Pratt is feeling just as awkward about all this. Now that the drug has worn off and his body isn't a seething cauldron of lust anymore, he's not sure what his place is here. He's seen Jacob be gentle, seen him be considerate and above all seen him be human. It's a side of Jacob he's sure that the man never wanted anyone to see and probably went out of his way to hide. 

But now Pratt knows.

"No." Jacob inwardly groans. Emotions. He hates them. "Stay."

Pratt rolls towards him, fitting perfectly against his side. "For how long?"

"As long as you'd like."

Sitting up on his arms so that he can look down at Jacob, his face oddly unreadable Pratt quietly asks, "With you?"

Dammit. "Yeah Staci. With me."

Pratt looks away, his face doing some strange acrobatics while it tries to figure out what emotion it wants. When he looks back at Jacob it's settled on something contented and soft. "Okay."

No. Do not look at him like that. Jacob's eyes are trained on Pratt's. His hand is up in Pratt's hair before he even realizes it. "Good." No not good! The part of him that's the Soldier is screaming at him. 

But the very small sliver of him that's still just a man wins out, dragging Pratt's face down to his.


End file.
